Those who follow my reviews know I’m a sucker for this sort of small personal film, full of emotion and quirkiness. Based upon a novel called The Elegance Of The Hedgehog, the film takes some time to allow us to realise that Renée is in fact central to its title; she is the hedgehog,  prickly on the outside but deeply sensitive and in fact, highly cultured underneath. Paloma astutely observes, in her voice-over, that many of us are in fact like hedgehogs, deeply private with fortresses and prickles constructed around our deepest selves.

Paloma, in the lead-up to her planned suicide, is videoing everything around her, believing it is very important what one is doing at the time of one’s death. Her videos include scathing critiques of her family, especially her neurotic mother. I must admit I was somewhat sceptical that a child of 11 could be so eloquent and advanced in her speech, however I soon became deeply engaged with her, as well as with the two other main protagonists, even though they display elements of archetype. The rich people around Paloma, especially her own family are portrayed as superficial, while the only “real” characters are the kind and wise Mr Ozu and Renée, whose frumpy, gruff and uncultured exterior hides a totally different character.

I am reluctant to reveal too much about the plot as it could spoil some of the surprises that emerge. Suffice to say there are many beautiful and touching elements, along with a few wryly amusing moments – the characters’ shared passion for Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, Paloma’s talented and beautiful art works, Renee’s hidden library, Mr Ozu’s skill with Japanese cooking and his attachment to his culture, along with some rather bizarre episodes involving a pet goldfish!

The main actors all carry their roles superbly. Igawa brings great style and compassion to Ozu, Cesar-winning Balasko is terrific as Renée, while newcomer Le Guillermic is marvellous as Paloma. And much lauded composer Gabriel Yared augments the film with some lovely moving music.

Sometimes the emotion a film generates can colour one’s judgment of it as a whole, and I confess to finding myself intensely moved by certain aspects of this film. By the end I was so involved I forgot just how much the precociousness and philosophising of Paloma had aggravated me at the start. Despite minor niggles, I found that The Hedgehog again confirms my view that films dealing with life, death and relationship issues are, for me, the best cinema of all.